haiku retrospective cclxxxvi

Is less always more?

In this case, what struck me was the blind hope and futility of dogwood flowers opening in the rain. Flowers don't open all at once. They take their time about it, and it's perfectly possible to drive by and catch them in the act. So perhaps this haiku needs more rather than less:

blind curve
dogwood flowers opening
in the rain


blind curve
dogwood flowers unfold
in the rain


blind curve
the creamy bracts of dogwood unfold
in the rain

(An attempt to be botanically precise here. Dogwood flowers are practically invisible. The "petals" that we admire are bracts, modified leaves that direct pollinators to the tiny flowers. Also, Easterners tend to think of dogwood flowers as pink. Our Pacific dogwood (Cornus nuttallii) has large bracts the color and texture of whipped cream.)

Or perhaps Tim is right and my attachment to the word "open" is a drag on the haiku.

blind curve
dogwood flowers
in the rain

I think I write a variation on this haiku every year. I love Pacific dogwood, and they are rare around here. There are only three trees on my regular routes. Two of them are located on the inside of a blind curve, where the road demands so much of my attention.

blind curve
dogwood flowers unfold
in the rain

7 April 2003